I got pregnant three years ago. I was 22, it was a brand-new relationship, but I was adamant that I was having a baby. I’ve always taken motherhood very seriously. I was abused — the product of people who shouldn’t have had kids — then adopted. I felt so strongly that this was the most important job of my life.
I wasn’t at risk of genetic defects, so during the anatomy scan it didn’t even occur to me that they were looking for abnormalities. Me, my boyfriend, and my parents all went to the appointment, and when they said I was having a girl, my mom jumped up and down hollering as if she were at a football game. My boyfriend cried.
I was home alone when I got a call from the genetic specialist who told me that the tests were positive for trisomy 13. I thought that was Down syndrome and thought, Okay, I can do that. But then she started apologizing: “I’m so sorry, these babies usually miscarry. It’s a miracle she’s made it this far.” I said I didn’t understand, and she explained that my baby could pass any day, be still-born, or die soon after. I Googled “trisomy 13” and saw horrific pictures of babies without noses or mouths. I sat there and sobbed while I held my belly apologizing to her over and over and over again. I called my mom and said, “My baby’s going to die. My baby’s going to die.”
The doctor cleared her schedule and saw me later that day. She said: “You need to make a decision. You’re already 23 weeks and the state of Ohio has restrictions that impact your options.” She explained I could terminate or carry the pregnancy to its extent. At the time, 24 weeks was the cutoff for abortion in Ohio or else you had to travel to another state. [In December 2016, Republican governor John Kasich signed a law that reduced this cutoff to 20 weeks.] We only had days to decide, and even then there were waiting lists and the expense was horrendous. I had never felt so alone.
The counselor said my baby wasn’t in pain and there was no risk to either of our lives if we continued the pregnancy. I thought, Let’s try to make some memories while we can. I really enjoyed being pregnant. I loved having this purpose, and I thought as long as she’s not suffering, I think that her being here with us right now is the best we can do. And so … we tried.
At 29 weeks, my ankles and legs got extremely swollen. I was disassociating and became lightheaded, so I left work. I started cramping and ended up in the hospital. There were so many tests, which ultimately concluded that this was an emergency situation. [Jessica was at risk of having a seizure, and potentially dying, if labor wasn’t induced.] I wasn’t thinking, I’m terminating this pregnancy in order to save my life, but that’s what my paperwork said.
The doctor was very clear. He said, “You need to decide whether you want to induce now or come back in a week and get your blood pressure checked again — and I will induce you then.” I lived 45 minutes away from any hospital, on a farm without neighbors. It was a bitterly cold January. He was afraid I’d have a seizure and not get to them in time. That worried me, too.
But I knew that if I was induced, there was no chance my daughter would survive. Even if I carried her to term, her survival rate was very low, less than 5 percent. Another decision I had to make was telling the doctors that I did not want them to resuscitate the baby.
I was in labor for 32 hours.
I declined to have her monitored during labor because I didn’t want to sit there listening to her pass away. So they’d periodically come in and quietly listen for a heartbeat. The last time, at 1 a.m., they couldn’t hear it. I made them bring my family back into the room, and about a half an hour later it was time. She was born after three pushes, and at just two and a half pounds. Her heart was still beating, but she didn’t cry or breathe or make any sort of sound. There was mention of oxygen, but I said, “Please, just let her go.” They put her on my chest, and my boyfriend came and cut the cord.
She stayed alive for two and a half hours. They called it when her heart stopped.
When I made the decision to “voluntarily” induce, I felt like I was picking myself over my child. I wouldn’t wish that on the most evil person on Earth. A funeral director arrived with a huge white cloth. He said, “I have to cover her face so people don’t know when I’m walking down the hall [with such a small body].” I handed her over, and that was the last time that I saw her. I didn’t want a casket on display at the funeral; that tiny box would have been way too much. I collected her ashes a week later.
Many people don’t understand why this experience reinforced my pro-choice beliefs. Now more than ever, I firmly believe: No conditions. No restrictions. I can’t imagine being in that situation and being denied the dignity of making a choice. That little bit of control was so empowering. Nobody just wakes up after being pregnant for over 20 weeks and says, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
When Trump said those things about late-term abortion during the debate, I was so angry. What must the rest of the world think of us? I have friends in the U.K. and Canada saying, “What the hell? You can have 30 guns but you can’t have a dignified, comfortable abortion?”
And while we’re getting abortions and making painful decisions about our bodies, Trump is fucking tweeting.
Dr. Willie Parker, who is trained as a gynecologist and OBGYN, is a hero for the pro-choice movement because he’s honest about the undiscussed aspects of getting (or not getting) an abortion. Watch how he gives a consultation.
That last statement about regret is so important, because so many people don’t understand what it is or what causes it. Anti-choicers exploit this by manipulating pregnant people and creating doubt, which only increases the likelihood of regret, no matter what decision the pregnant person makes. You know what is best for you, even if it takes some time to figure it out.
I did not know that in 7 states in America, you can carry out an abortion the day before you give birth (allows abortion at any time). That’s so fucking disgusting. And other states allow abortion up to 28 weeks. That’s not a ball of cells no more, that’s a damn baby. It’s good that abortion is legal but not the fucking late into the pregnancy 😷😷 nasty
You do know the reason abortion is carried out that late in a pregnancy is because of fetal abnormalities, right? There’s no woman that stays pregnant for 8 months and then decides “Meh, I’m just gonna have an abortion instead.”
These women are not nasty, they are not evil, they are women who were so excited to welcome their little one into this world. They are women who had a nursery set up and baby clothes bought. They are women who excitedly waited for their due date, took belly photos and updated the world on how their pregnancy was coming along. They are the women who woke up one day and felt that their baby wasn’t moving anymore. They are the women that felt in their gut that something was terribly wrong, just to have their worst fears confirmed.
They are the women who went to a regular checkup to find out that their baby is severely deformed and won’t live outside the womb, or will but only for a few days and suffer terribly the whole time. They are the women who have to make a decision to not let their baby suffer.
Women having abortions that late are not women who just decided to get an abortion 8 months into pregnancy. While that is there right to do so, know that isn’t what happens. Know that that isn’t the reality.
This is really upsetting to read but it is the truth, more people need to know this.
Something like 90% of abortions are first trimester, which is so early that the medical terminology vacillates between “zygote” and “fetus”, and whatever the name, the thing’s the size of a pencil eraser and has 0% ability to survive outside of the womb.
The remainder are performed in the 2nd trimester, generally as a result of fetal abnormality or a severe congenital defect.
The vanishingly rare 3rd trimester abortions are generally for one of two reasons:
1) the life of the mother is in serious danger 2) the fetus is either dead or dying
So no. Women aren’t just bouncing on coat-hangers at 37 weeks for a giggle, they’re undertaking a serious medical procedure for a heartbreaking reason.
The fact that planned parenthood buildings literally have special rooms for the employees and patients to go to when a mass shooter comes into the building really does shed light on the hypocrisy of the ‘Pro life’ movement.
Let me tell everyone the story of the one and only time I went to a planned parenthood clinic. There’s really only a few things a man goes into a PP by himself to do. I was there for an STI screening, better safe than sorry right? But from the moment I walked in things seemed weird to me. I’m terrible at picking up on social clues but everyone seemed tense. The woman at the front desk, the woman waiting for her apointment, the nurse who led me into the back for blood samples. Everyone seemed on edge. At first I thought it was me being paranoid, that no, nobody was judging me for getting tested, it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
I followed the nurse into the back. She told me to wait outside a small supply nook while she got what she needed, so I stood there, feeling tense. Then she dropped her clipboard and I, being stupid and dense but ultimately inclined to try and be helpful, stepped forward into the nook to pick it up for her.
She froze, and told me in a steady voice like she was trying to fight back fear that I needed to stay outside the room. I saw her face and and I won’t ever forget the little flicker of fear in her eyes.
Look, I’m a big guy. Almost six four and not hugely muscular or anything but big enough to be intimidating. I’ve learned that people, particularly women, particularly women alone in enclosed spaces with me, get anxious. I’ve learned to make myself as non-threatening as possible, to relax my posture or lean against something away from them. To keep my hands open and visible, to smile but to leave them alone and never make a move that could be interpreted as trying to cut off, say, the exit doors of the elevator or something similar. I’m not perfect at it but I try not to scare people. (And isn’t it a sad fucking commentary on the behavior of so many men that women are afraid enough of me that I need to do this?)
Anyway, I immediately stopped, stepped back, put my hands up in front of me and apologized. It wasn’t until later, when I had already left, elbow bandaged and gauzed, that I realized her fear was more than just the oh-so-common fear women have learned. She thought, maybe for a second, maybe for longer, that I was there to hurt her, and her co-workers. Maybe that I had a gun, or a bomb, or something, I don’t know.
But for a split second, that woman thought that maybe this would be the day someone came in to her place of work and destroyed her life, and the lives of people she cares about.
That split second of fear is the reason I will never support any organization like “operation rescue” or any of the others that claim through false, lying smiles to be “pro life”. Because that’s what they’re all about. Making people: doctors, nurses, receptionists, bystanders, feel fear in the service of their twisted moral crusade.
This is so important
The other point is that even though they feared for their health and safety, they treated this man. They did ask him to leave because he might do something. They treated him and probably saved some stress and pain in his life regardless of what they feared. They allowed him to get the health care he needed even though they were afraid.
How many women have been prevented from getting health care because someone else was afraid that instead of getting her yeast infection cleared up, she was getting an abortion?
Not a peep is spoken about this shit in the gun control debate.
Multiple gynos refused me an IUD because “oh, it hurts so much to put in when you’ve had kids! We don’t want to put you in pain!!”
I was at a 7-9 on the pain scale regularly for my periods, and the docs were determined to make me run the gauntlet.
“But what about the pill?”
“Symptom-swap.”
“Have you thought about depo?”
“Mood drop.”
“And the patch?”
“Family history of breaking out in rashes.”
“Well, what about the nuva ring?”
“How will that NOT give me the same symptom-swap issues?”
“…”
“Look, I’m in pain so bad I wake up in the middle of the night. I’m in pain so bad I didn’t know I had appendecitis. I need SOMETHING.”
“Have you tried an ibuprofen protocol?”
“YES.”
“There are yoga poses that help with cramping.”
“I can’t uncurl from the ball of pain I’m in. How the hell am I supposed to hold position?”
“Well, how much caffeine do you drink? That could be a factor.”
“I have three cups of coffee a day and drink lots of water.”
And so on.
Then, one day, I made an appointment and went to Planned Parenthood.
“Yeah. Hi. I have incredibly painful periods that are fucking crippling me, and I need an IUD.”
“Okay. Do you have a chart of your periods I can look at?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Looks like you have regular, heavy periods where the pain is worsening. Is that right?”
“Yup. And the fatigue. And the mood swings. And all of it.”
“Fatigue and mood swings, too?”
“Yup.”
“…is there any history of endometriosis in your family?”
“Yup. I’ve never been diagnosed, though. They say it takes a biopsy.”
“The biopsy can confirm tissue, but if you don’t have excess tissue, it doesn’t really help. You can have endo without excess tissue.”
“Okay. So, what are my options?”
“I suggest Mirena. Paraguard can make period symptoms worse even though it’s got no hormones while Mirena has a low-dose hormone that should help with all your pain and other issues. Here’s all the info on both of them. Here are models of both of them. Why don’t you take everything with you, read through it, then call if you have any questions? We can go ahead and schedule for insertion before you leave, and you can just call and say which type you want after you’ve read up. Is that okay?”
“…Yeah. That’s. That’s fine.”
“Do you have any questions right now?”
“Um, I got told a bunch I shouldn’t get an IUD because the insertion will hurt too much because I haven’t had kids.”
“Looking at the pain you’re usually in, I think you can handle it. It will definitely hurt, but it should only last about twenty seconds.”
“Twenty seconds?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been refused the best option for dealing with my symptoms because of TWENTY SECONDS?!”
“Sadly, we hear that a lot.”
Planned Parenthood treated me like a PERSON who was in pain, not a walking uterus bitching and moaning about womanly things. Planned Parenthood showed me respect and kindness and respected the knowledge I brought of my own medical history to the conversation. Planned Parenthood respected my autonomy where other doctors rarely had and paid attention when I explained why I felt the IUD was the best choice. Planned Parenthood showed me I mattered, and I want to show how much they matter to me.
